Poet’s Notes: I remember the poet David Ferry who with
his wife Anne used to run a free weekly supper for street people in a Boston
church basement, telling me that many homeless alcoholics won’t sleep in
shelters because they can’t drink there. At the time, I lived in an apartment
near both the church and the Public Garden where the Ether Monument stands — a
fountain and statue built in the late 19th century to honor the
development of anesthetics. The inscription on the monument is comprised of the
poem’s final lines.

Editor’s Note:This
poem reminds me of another interesting and ironic fact about the homeless--the
value they place upon clean socks.I once read an article about an activist for the homeless who always
carried pairs of new socks with her in her purse and car.When approached by a homeless person,
she would offer a pair of socks.The street vagabonds, grifters, scammers, con artists, and drug addicts
would refuse the gift.Once one
even betrayed himself by saying, “I have plenty of socks at home.”Real homeless people, this activist
found, would gratefully accept the socks and put them on their feet
immediately. “Ether Monument” wasfirst published in Poetry International.Artist's Note: Pictures of the Ether Monument were used as reference material for this piece. This is the first time I've really combined graphite with my watercolor. I enjoy the effect and may use it more later.

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